


Welcome Home

by takethembystorm



Series: Tea Break [49]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life, fluff for days, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethembystorm/pseuds/takethembystorm
Summary: Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng have just moved into their new apartment, and it's going to take a little adjustment for the both of them to get comfortable.





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Megatraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megatraven/gifts).



> Original idea by [gigiree](gigiree.tumblr.com/).

Adrien wakes to the sound of humming.

He lies in bed for a while, letting the sound wash over him, until his brain has booted up sufficiently to recognize it as the steady mechanical whirr of the mixer, rather than Marinette’s enthusiastic but somewhat tone-deaf—bless her—humming.

He frowns in concentration.  No, wait.  That was there too, in the background and then abruptly in the foreground as she shuts the mixer off.

He finds enough willpower to crack an eye open.

Okay, so it was still something like an hour before he had to actually get up for work, unless daylight saving had come without him noticing.  But on the other hand, Marinette was baking something, which meant that there was a non-negligible chance of a) seeing her do that adorable happy butt wiggle of hers and b) seeing her in an apron.

Adrien kicks his way free of his gorgeously warm cocoon of blankets, tap-dances his way across the freezing hardwood floor to where he’d put his fluffy slippers the last night, grabs his robe from its hanger on the door, and shuffles out of the bedroom.

Somewhat disappointingly, Marinette is wearing an apron over her pajamas, although his disappointment is mitigated somewhat by the butt wiggle.

Adrien drinks in the sight, although his appreciation is blunted somewhat when Marinette turns to pull something out of a cabinet, catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and nearly jumps straight out of her skin.

“Good morning, my Lady,” Adrien says as Marinette tries and fails to keep her composure.  “Sleep well?”

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks.  “Y-You’re awake.”

“I am,” Adrien says, walking up and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“D-Did I wake you up?” Marinette says, as Adrien turns her gently around and places his chin atop her head, humming happily to himself.  “I’m sorry, this is the first time I’ve lived with someone since Alya moved in with Nino, I should’ve remembered.”

“Nah,” Adrien says, “I would’ve been up already.”  He hugs her around the waist and looks around the tiny kitchen, strewn with flour dust, measuring cups, and other paraphernalia.  “So what’re you making?”

Marinette places her hands over his.  “Oh.  Well, you know how every week at the office we take turns to bring in something for the Friday morning meeting?”

“Yes.”

“It’s my turn today, so I figured that I’d break out Dad’s croissant recipe.”

Marinette feels Adrien smile.  “Are you going to be making extra?” he asks.

“Of course, you appetite on legs.”  She nudges him in the side with an elbow.  “I mean, if you ever decide to let go of me.”

Adrien holds her tighter, breathes in deeply, then lets her go.  “Never.  Do you need any help?”

“No,” Marinette says, turning to face him.  She leans up on tip-toe and kisses him on a cheek.  “As much as I love you, you are all elbows in the kitchen, and I’d rather not deal with dough all down my shirt this early in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Adrien says, his grin growing wider and gaining a distinctly wolfish edge.  “I could help you clean up in the shower.”

“Bad kitty,” Marinette says, reaching up and booping him gently on the nose.

“All right, all right,” Adrien says.  “I’ll make some coffee then.”

“Strong, please,” Marinette says, turning back to her work.  “Very strong.”

“As my lady commands,” Adrien says, sketching out a deep bow that ends up leading into an accidental headbutt when Marinette takes a step to the side to pick up a brick of butter.

* * *

Marinette takes a long sip from her mug of coffee.  Adrien takes a sip from his.

They stare at the bandages swathed around Adrien’s right hand and forearm.

“Okay,” Marinette says, “let’s recap.”

“Do we have to?” Adrien says.

“You nearly got your sleeve caught in the grinder—”

“—in my defense, I _was_ trying to seduce you and you _were_ standing behind me—”

“—then you bumped into me and sloshed water over the both of us—”

“—at least it was cold water—”

“—and then you burned your arm on the edge of the very hot baking sheet I was holding and simultaneously sloshed coffee over your hand.”

“—fresh coffee too.  More’s the shame.”

“And then you slipped on the coffee and fell right onto your ass.”

"I still think that you may have slightly overreacted there.”

They take a long sip from their mugs.

“The next place we get is going to have a bigger kitchen,” Marinette says firmly.

“No argument here,” Adrien says.  He sighs and flexes his fingers.  "Was it strictly necessary to give me the mummy treatment?  I’m just scalded, after all.“

"I may have overreacted there.  Slightly.”

“Mmhm.”

Adrien slowly curls his fingers into a fist, then uncurls them.  "Well, at least I didn’t get coffee on the croissants.“

"You need help buttering yours?” Marinette asks.

“Are you going to help feed me too?” Adrien says with a toothy smile.

Marinette rolls her eyes and slides a croissant and a butter knife over to him.  "You are nothing but a walking appetite, Adrien Agreste.“

Adrien picks up his pastry and consumes half of it in one bite.  "A sexy one, though.”

“He says while spraying croissant crumbs all over the table.”

They share a brief smile.

Adrien leans back in his chair, chewing, and watches Marinette as she carefully applies a pat of butter and half the contents of a jam jar to her croissant.  He lets his gaze linger on her as she takes a bite, then looks around at their little kitchenette, at the beaten, stained, but still-functional stove, and at the oven with the little light showing Marinette’s second batch of croissants as they baked.  He looks back at their dining table, the wood scarred, the varnish peeling in places—he was really going to need to get that redone—and at their mugs, his with a red-and-black polka-dotted pattern, hers all-black with a neon green pawprint.

He lets out a sigh and leans back in his chair.

“You all right?” Marinette asks.

“Yeah,” Adrien replies.  He reaches out and lays his left hand on the table, palm up; after a beat Marinette places her hand in his.  “I’m all right.”


End file.
